Devour
by Miss Tangerine
Summary: Old-school dysfunctional Lucius-Narcissa, back in their early Death Eater days. Rated R for implied sex and death.


**Author: **Miss Tangerine

**Title: **_Devour_

**Rating: **R for non-graphic sex, implied murders and general darkness.

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and everything associated belongs to JK Rowling. No offense or copyright infringement is intended.

**Warnings: **Possible flaws in writing which you may feel free to correct; het main couple and het _sex_, at that.

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Green smoke unfurls in the air, rising towards the dark sky like long ghost fingers. Above the little village nearby, the dark mark hovers. There would be screams of terror and despair, had anyone been left alive to see it.

Narcissa laughs in the chill night, feeling drunk on the magic hanging thick in the air. She feels delerious and intoxicated, and the night is young. Above the grey magic-induced smog the sky is clear and beautiful, the newmoon adorning the soft darkness amid a sprinkle of diamond stars.

The grass tickles her bare feet like feathers, and she relishes the feel of moist earth. She feels like running, just running forever, deeper and deeper into the night, like a wild predatory animal.

She leans in against Lucius, taking his hand in hers and curling their fingers together. Their euphoric laughter mingles, and he grabs her by the waist, pulling her roughly against him. He kisses her hungrily, like he's trying to pull the very life from her and feed on it. She clings to his shoulders, digging her nails deep into his skin, leaving dark crecsent imprints on his pale skin. Their love is wild and fierce tonight, and they prey on each other like dark creatures, madly infatuated with power and each other.

She smiles against his mouth as she caresses him. His face is so smooth, so like the white mask he wears. He is so beautiful and cold, and she can practically feel the sparks of magic coursing under his skin. He tears at her cloak pin, discarding it carelessly on the ground. She gasps as he pulls at the seam of her dress, tearing past the delicate layers of silk and threads.

"Lucius, not here, love... The aurors will be here any minute, they must have seen the mark by now..." She whispers breathlessly.

He doesn't listen and she doesn't resist as he moves against her, and willingly lets him shove her back against the nearest treetrunk. The bark is rough and cuts painfully into her thin skin, but she barely notices it. She bites down hard on her lip to keep herself from crying out, meeting his lips in a feverish kiss. She can taste her blood on his tounge as he licks it away, and through the haze of her mind she wonders if his family has vampires among them.

He is rough and shows as much care for her as her did for her clothes, but she is used to it and is no gentler towards him. Their touches are hungry and demanding with no time for reassurances or second thoughts. She knows they have to hurry, that their only chance to escape the crime scene is rushing past them, but she doesn't care. She arches up against Lucius, holding on to him for support as her legs give in. The world is a dark haze through her half lidded eyes, everything blending into a shapeless murkiness, and she wonders if this is how it feels to make love under water. She wonders if they have somehow apparated down under the sea, because she feels as breathless and weightless as if she was drowning. But then she spots the blurry green glow of the dark mark still hanging unfadingly above them and is once again reminded of the stark reality.

He groans and shudders against her, and she leans back and closes her eyes as she lets the sensations wash over her. Total darkness swallows her up for a few seconds before she comes to her senses again. She feels dazed and exhausted and has to lean back on the tree to keep her shivering body from sinking to the ground. Lucius has already pulled away and regained his composure. He smoothes down his clothes and hair, only a slight unremarkable flush to his skin and the scent of sex giving away what has just happened between them. She sighs and brushes her damp hair out of her eyes. Down in the village she spots the shine of wand-light. The lights look like tiny fireflies dancing in the darkness, uncaring and unseeing of the horrors their carriers are probably discovering just now. She detachedly wonders if there is screaming, or just the wordless, mute horror that goes beyond shock and grief.

She wishes she could hear the screams. They're the best part. The killings are often mindless and hurried, the bloodlust and adrenaline taking over. It takes skill to draw it out, make every second of pain and fear last an unbearable eternity, and she is still young and lacks the selfcontrol of coldblooded murder.

But the screams... The screams are priceless. Enjoying the natural shock and despair from afar without directly causing it is like appreciating fine art.

Her favorite part has always been the aftermath. It doesn't seem to affect Lucius, who is as withdrawn and indifferent as always.

She knows better than to try to reach for him or kiss him. The temporary rapture has passed and she cannot touch him. It occurs to her that she should probably feel hurt, injured by his impersonal, cold indifference, but she doesn't care. Narcissa doesn't feel pain, she only causes it. Her concerns are only of a practical manner. She is mildly annoyed by his lethargic observance of the rapidly approaching lights and vaguely wonders if she will ever be able to repair her dress, even with the aid of potent dark magic. The violet silk hangs in hopeless shreds on her frail frame, and she feels a strong urge to just shrug the tarnished garment off and leave it behind, but she knows better than to leave any sort of evidence. Of course the Dark Mark has been a dead giveaway, but it's more the principle of the thing.

They are still too far away to be spotted, but they need to move fast. She tries to get as much control over herself and her appearance as possible, but gives up. Lucius seems lost in thought, unable to tear his eyes from the scene. She wonders if he has completely forgotten about her, or if he simply doesn't care. She suspects the latter, but doesn't have time to give it more thought. Now that her mind is clearing up, she feels the beginning of icy panic in her chest. She can hear voices now.

She silently takes hold of Lucius, gripping his wrist perhaps a bit too firmly, and motions for him to get moving. He gives her a calming smile and grabs her by the waist. His movements are calculated and detached now, and he seems entirely focused on what is most likely an approaching team of aurors. She tugs at his arm impatiently, but he shushes her, his warm breath ghosting across her skin. She can't apparate back without him, and he knows it. Only Lucius knows their destination, and she is helplessly lost without his lead. He waits until the absolutely last moment. Only when the lights appear just at the edge of the forest, casting long black shadows ahead of them, does she start to feel the magical energy prickling in the air around them. She knows it's soon, and quickly wraps her arms around his neck, clinging nearly desperately to him. She forces herself to ignore the foreign voices, focusing entirely on Lucius' steady breathing and pulse. She needs to imagine them as one being to be able to follow him in his apparition. It isn't easy, but she's getting the hang of it. She doesn't have a choice, only Lucius is trusted enough with the information of their safe places.

Just as the aurors appear at the edge of the clearing they have been staying in she feels the familiar tug behind her navel. The world becomes a blurry haze, its edges running and fading like watercolors. Then everything goes black, and as usual she isn't certain whether it's the world or just her head spinning in madness. She'd breathe a sigh of relief, except she knows it isn't over. It never will be. Not when you're Narcissa Black and Lucius Malfoy. Already she feels the craving, the hunger, for the next night, the next kill, the next madness gripping Lucius and her by the throat. Night by night, piece by piece, they eat each other up without ever sating the bone deep hunger. She loves it, lives for it, and loves Lucius for giving it to her on a silver plate. If nothing else, he gives her that.


End file.
